


Voice of An Angel

by Counterpunch



Series: Faberry Green Tomatoes [2]
Category: Fried Green Tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe - Fannie Flagg, Glee
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-08
Updated: 2012-01-08
Packaged: 2017-10-29 04:07:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/315622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Counterpunch/pseuds/Counterpunch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>People said Rachel had the voice of an angel. But angels don't sing anymore</p>
            </blockquote>





	Voice of An Angel

People said Rachel had the voice of an angel.

But angels don't sing anymore. Not in Whistle Stop since she left, and certainly not in Valdosta. Frank whisked her back to Georgia faster than cotton grows in the summertime.

It was lucky, they said, if you caught an angel singing unawares. Sometimes, Dot Weems said she'd catch Rachel singing on her way to and from the post office. She'd send letters off with a smile and exit with a tune under her breath. Julian loved lingering with his morning coffee, but mostly because he'd get to hear Rachel singing in the kitchen or outside in the garden and it'd start his day off with a smile and a full heart.

But Quinn, darling Innie was the luckiest of them all. She'd hear her in the bathroom in the morning, wrapped in a cocoon of sheets under the cover of darkness, walking through the woods, lying under the stars, and perhaps most beautifully of all, when Rachel didn't even know. Quinn must have spent hours leaning in the doorway, pretending to still be asleep, or standing just around the corner out of sight simply listening. When Rachel thought she was alone, singing for herself, it was like sweet honey.

But angels don't sing anymore.

When she sang at church, it was the sound of beams of light shining onto the earthy realm to help the downtrodden and sinful find their way back into His grace. After all, it got Quinnie to sit through a service. If Rachel's voice could get the littlest Threadgoode to church, then by George, they said, it could save people.

But angels don't get saved when they're busy being lost.

She missed evenings sitting by the fire or reading out loud to Quinn in the meadow during a lazy April afternoon. She was aimless, without purpose. Rachel was made to love Quinn. Alone in the big house in Valdosta felt a lot like living in an echo; never having a solid presence, always caught up in a space between distances.

What people didn't know is that angels don't sing when they're too busy crying.

The first time he hit her, she thought it was her fault. Thought that maybe Frank could feel the love she had inside for Quinn. It had slipped out somehow, in her voice, her touch; she didn't know how, but she believed he must have known and that's why he despised her. But the more it happened, she'd see the slick glint of satisfaction in his eyes and she knew - sure as she loved Quinn - that he wasn't a man at all.

Rachel didn't have to wonder why for long, though. He stumbled into her bedroom late one night not too long after they were married, heavy and stinking of whiskey. She'd been asleep and awoke from one nightmare to find herself stuck in another. Fumbling with the zipper, he was mumbling about what he'd done out drinking, and through a particularly nasty backhand, she managed to catch a few key phrases.

 _Klan. Troupville. Faggots._

The moment he entered her roughly, she cried out as the pieces fell together in her mind.

There is no higher power on earth or Heaven than love, is what her fathers taught her. Hillel taught the entire Torah while standing on one foot, _what is hateful to you, do not do unto others._

 _Above all,_ Jesus taught, _love each other deeply._ Rachel knew it wasn't a sin.

 _There is no fear in love._ Rachel wasn't afraid. But her fathers were, and that's why they stayed secluded in Troupville. Two men together raised questions. But one black and one Jew raised torches.

She cried sometimes, but only for them. _But perfect love drives out fear._ They were without fear now. Perfect love carried her strong. It fixed her bones and healed her bruises. Even as he used her body, she was off swimming in a stream with Quinnie.

Angels don't sing when they're too busy praying.

 _Place me like a seal over your heart, for love is as strong as death. It burns like a blazing fire, like a mighty flame._

She had no intention of dying. So when she missed her period for the second month, she knew it was time. Rachel's turn to be Ruth and return to her people.

It was time for angels to sing again.


End file.
